Hawk Eyes
by Miso Ramen-sama
Summary: REDONE, GUYS! Trust me, it's nothing like before. It's been hacked at until I can get all the-you'll find out for yerselves. As seen from a bird's eye view: "Everything's so normal, it's suspicious." Post-School's Out-Forever. Rated M for future lemons (on horses? *cough*), language, and blood. Slight AU. Faxness.
1. Prologue

**Miso****:** yep, yep! I redid the prologue! So now it sounds more plotty and Fang doesn't sound like a sexist pig! (to those reading this for the first time, don't ask)

I've redone the WHOLE story and writing: from beginning to END. That's right. Now it won't sound as stupid as it did before (trust me, it did). I'd like SOME reviews, though, PLEASE. Just so I can get a pointer or two for ideas and such... and a confidence boost. Don't make me beg. :c I'm gonna keep all the reviews I had before, mostly because those people gave me support even with how stupidly everything was going and they STILL liked it (gasp!). Their praise meant a lot to me. c:

The summary will edited frequently until I can find SOMETHING to catch someone's attention. Until then, just gonna leave it there so people know that this story's been edited.

**Disclaimer:** this is going to be the ONLY disclaimer for this whole story. I don't see the need to repeatedly say it if it's already said once. It's not like I can claim to be James Patterson. Most of you would demand proof, of which I don't have. SO. On that note.

I don't own Maximum Ride nor any of the story's characters. I don't even own a _car._

* * *

_Hawk Eyes_  
_Prologue_

* * *

The last thing I wanted to find upon waking up was _him._

"_Jeb_." I never thought I could say someone's name with so much venom and hate as I did in that one moment. Not even Aubrey could gain this kind of reaction from me.

He was standing there with this impassive look on his face. But I knew he was as slimy inside as the frogs I'd dissected in AP Biology.

I wanted to punch him, wipe that infuriating fake look off of his face but realized I was surrounded by glass. I was encased in one of those test tube things like those ones from a bad Scifi movie.

And I was naked.

Hastily, I scrambled to cover myself with my arms and did a fine poor job of it, too. There was barely any room for me to stretch my legs let alone use my wings as a makeshift curtain. The tiny space I was in was cramped and I had to fight back a sudden rush of claustrophobia before I started hyperventilating.

Jeb didn't respond at all. He never took his eyes away from mine. I should be thankful he wasn't a pervert (because not only would that be wrong, it would be _creepy_), but for some reason that just made me madder.

"What have you done?" I hissed at him, wanting to slap him more than ever now. "Where's Fang?" Oh, God, Fang! I just realized that he wasn't here with me. We (meaning Jeb and I) were in, what looked like, a lab. Only this was more _Dr. Evil_ lab and less friendly Dexter's Laboratory lab.

Along with my glass prison, there were three more but empty. A solid steel table was centered in the middle of the room with one of those huge lights they use to blind their experiments suspended over it. A wheeling tray of sharp, torturous-looking surgical tools was next to to the table.

I shivered but no matter what I couldn't find Fang.

"If you've hurt him…" I started threateningly, not sure what I would do, but I'd be damned if I didn't think of _something_. "I'm going to pull your navel out through your nose and play 'Operation' with your intestines before pulling them out through your ass!"

Jeb quirked an eyebrow at me. "Lovely image, Max. Truly, I applaud your imagination," he said dryly. "But that's not why we're here. I don't know about your boyfriend—_you_ were all we needed—but I'm sure _he_ left him alone."

My eyes widened. 'He'? "Who's 'he'?" I asked.

"Unimportant," was Jeb's response. He locked eyes with me. "Neither of them are."

_Bullshit. _"See, that's where you're wrong, Jeb dear," I said with enough sarcasm to fill a thirty foot well. "Unlike you, the rest of us don't have an ice block for a heart nor cold black sludge for a soul. _I_ care about Fang. More than anything. And so help me, God, when I get out of here, because I _will_, I will make sure you _regret_ hurting him."

Jeb sighed. "Max," he shook his head as if disappointed. "I admire your tenacity. If only you had cared half that much for the world."

I was about to tell him where he could shove his world when he swiveled around in his chair to a computer I only now noticed was behind him. Large, the monitor was as wide as a table and glowed green with command prompts racing across the screen.

"What are you doing?" I asked, standing to try and get a better look at what he was typing.

"If you won't do your job, then we'll use your creation to do it _for_ you."

I frowned. My creation? "What are you talking about…?" I trail off, my mouth going slack.

He turned to me and tilted his head to the side, expectantly. Then he pointed at me, or more specifically, my stomach. "The life growing inside of you. The one you and Fang made together. The strongest life made by two of the strongest recombinant weapons in our arsenal against those who would destroy the world. The life that will help all living lifeforms." He paused to let his words sink in (and, I suspected, _para impresionar_, for effect). "We will harvest this child to the best of our ability when it is time. For now…" Trailing off, he turned to the computer again and typed something.

There was a sudden whoosh from above and I looked up in time to have water shower down on me. Or at least, I _though_t it was water. When I rubbed my thumb and index finger together, I found that it was rather sticky and a thick viscous blue.

I looked at Jeb as realization dawned on me and tears welled in my eyes. "Don't do this."

"I'm sorry, Max," he said, looking truly contrite in that instant. "But this is how it's going to be. You abandoned your post, your _job. _You weren't supposed to do that."

"Yeah, because I was supposed to mindlessly follow a bunch of mad scientists in their stupid quest to take over the world," I couldn't help but say sarcastically. "That's right up there with letting them experiment on human embryos and turning them into half-animal slaves for their own benefit!"

"We gave you chances, Max. But too many failures have led you to this day."

I shook my head. "I was just a child, what could I have done?" I whispered.

"So much, my child, yet you chose to repeatedly ignore it. Don't worry, honey, this will only put you in a stasis long enough for the child to grow. During that time, we will conduct studies as well as experiments to further enhance the child's abilities. You will feel no pain whatsoever—you won't even know what's happening."

I glared. Did he think telling me that would make me feel any better?

By now the gooey fluid had reached my waist and I shivered at the coolness on my skin. Desperately, I looked around for an escape but with five inches of glass surrounding me, I didn't see how I could possibly break out without uselessly breaking my hands. That didn't stop me from trying.

I hadn't even gotten a scratch in it by the time my knuckles burst open and blood dripped down my arms and splattered the glass in front of me. I cradled my fist to my chest and tried not to sob.

I was trapped. Wholly. Completely.

Hopelessly.

Jeb gestured above me. "I suggest putting that on so you wouldn't drown."

I looked up again and noticed that what he was referring to was an oxygen mask. A long tube connected it to the top of the glass tube from which I would be able to breathe without fear of swallowing the thick anesthetic fluid.

For one sick moment, I considered just letting myself drown. If I did that, I could escape this hell. Plus, it would probably piss him off and ruin whatever little evil plans he had for me.

But then I thought of Fang and how I had a life growing inside of me. _Our_ life, combined and made by the both of us. As much as I hated what Jeb was forcing me to do, I couldn't help but touch my belly in pure awe. I was _pregnant_. That meant it wouldn't be just me that would die. I had to put it on.

Besides, if I didn't, I had no doubt he would just gas me and submerge me anyhow. _Bastard._

Approval shined in Jeb's eyes as I reached up and grabbed the mask from above me. I didn't bothering covering myself. In the next few moments, dignity would be the last thing on my mind.

As the tube quickly filled up and I could see only the blurry blue image of Jeb through the glass, I thought of the previous months before I was abducted.

Everything was normal. Too normal. I kept thinking that maybe it was too good to be true but after four years of peace I had actually gotten used to having friends and going to school. Only having to worry about beating the crap out of popular snobs; worrying about passing tests and quizzes; worrying about which college I would go to; riding horse for _fun_; fighting over boyfriends; maintaining a job; fending off lesbians; fending off _ex-_boyfriends that didn't get a clue; blowing up birthday cakes.

With the exception of Max II making an appearance...

I felt _normal._

I had wings and all, but for these past months I'd actually thought I'd have a chance at a real life. Even better if Fang was at my side.

_Fang_.

He's going to be devastated when he wakes up to find me gone. He's already lost so much. And I've already done this to him once before. It's not my fault now, but Fang wouldn't automatically assume that I'd been taken against my will.

At that, I never thought I could hate Jeb anymore than I already did.

* * *

-prologue end.

So what do you guys think? Better prologue than before, neh? I have chapter 1 ready to post but I'll just be doing some touch ups so probably tomorrow.

Ja ne!


	2. Chapter 1

**Miso:** do you guys know just _how _many times I did and _re_did and _redid _this chapter? the first version I had ended up taking too long to get to the point (at least _I_ found it tedious) so I erased that (especially since everyone seems to fucking start off with Max waking up in the morning and decking her alarm clock; I found it too cliché—no offense—and I hate being cliché), then the second version sucked monkey ass. then _this_ third version came out and _finally_ I was at an impasse with myself, even though I'm still kinda not happy with it.

**Revv:** you did your best.

**Miso:** I hope I did. I'm just surprised I haven't completely given up on this story considering the years it took me to actually get off my ass and redo it. Lost Inside… not so much… I keep cringing every time I _look _at the writing style and compare it to my present's.

**Revv:** *pats* I'm proud of you, though! :)

**Miso:** thanks.

* * *

_Hawk Eyes  
Chapter 1  
_

* * *

**Warning: **none for this chapter.

Max

I stared deep into the eyes that were just a few desks and student heads in front of me.

I was in my AP Literature class.

And for the first day of school, it was actually sort of nice. Or boring, depended on how you saw it. On one hand, we didn't have any class work but on the other, there wasn't really much to do. As was to be expected on the first day, we were _supposed _to get to know each other in the class.

At least that's what Mrs. Pierre was hoping for. But everyone had either deviated towards friends they already knew or stayed in their seat.

All in all, it was clear our teacher had given up, seeing as how she was now rifling through the papers on her desk, looking rumpled and put out.

I, of course, had chosen to remain in my seat. Since TC and Alexis didn't have fourth block with me, I was pretty much on my own until my last class rolled around then my free period. Not that I didn't mind. As you already knew—or should know anyway—I'm not exactly the social butterfly.

Anyway, I was doodling away in my notebook—a little picture of some freshman, who was clearly too smart for his age to be in a college level class, sleeping on his desk and before you ask, I did not acquire any special artistic traits while I was previously on the run; it was a mixture between a stick figure and roughly irregular shapes in the corner of the page, so one could hardly call it Da Vinci Award-winning—when the door opened.

I paid no attention, or course. Like I said, it was the first day of the school year; no one was going to come _early_ (or _late_, considering my fourth starts after lunch). And if one was a senior that was a given.

I'm surprised _I_ showed up. I wasn't going to. But then figured, I might as well since I had nothing to do in my apartment. It's been that way for a while.

I was about to add a snot bubble on the kid when Mrs. Pierre clapped her hands twice to get everyone's attention. I flinched at the unexpected sound. You never knew how much louder that kind of clapping can get until you're a genetically altered mutant freak with enhanced hearing. I looked up anyhow…

…and was immediately lost in a pair of eyes so deep I thought I was literally drowning.

I couldn't stop myself. I didn't even hear as Mrs. Pierre introduced his name but it didn't matter. I already knew it anyway. He may have physically changed so much in appearance that I could barely recognize him but I could never mistake those _eyes _and the intensity that was in them.

No one had eyes like Fang.

I didn't know _what_ I wanted to do as he was told to find a seat (or "Make some friends! I'm sure someone would love to know where you've come from, Mr. Morgan," was Mrs. Pierre's futile request, for no one moved besides a few of the girls who turned their heads to give him goo-goo eyes) and he sat two desks to the left behind me.

I wanted turn around and meet his eyes again. I wanted to write a note but wasn't quite sure what to write. All that kept tumbling through my head was, _didn't he recognize me?_

He'd walked _right past_ the glaringly empty desk beside me. He could have sat next to me yet he didn't. But I was sure it was him—or at least, I _hoped._

Out of the fifty states and a hundred-and-something other countries on the planet, what's the likelihood that he'd end up _here_?

In New York?

In the _same school_?

It could just as easily be someone else who had black eyes, but even as I thought that I found myself dropping that theory as fast as it had come.

_No one had eyes like Fang._

And then there was the fact that I had seen the same recognition gleaming in his eyes that I was sure was mirrored in my own.

It shouldn't have mattered, but I found myself wishing that it did. I doubt he would have wanted a note from me. And I wouldn't blame him. Years ago, I had given him one before but I wasn't actually _there_ to give it to him in_ person. _Past experience told me it would be forbidden for me to even flick a folded up note onto his desk with something akin to, _long time no see_.

I barely heard as the bell rung for my fifth period class. I could no longer concentrate on my doodle to pass the time, but even then my consuming thoughts had made AP Lit seem shorter than it was supposed to.

I couldn't look at him as I gathered my things. I knew he was looking at me—I could feel him boring holes to the back of my head—but the intense guilt sinking into my gut made it difficult for me to meet his eyes for a second time.

He gave me no choice, however.

Before I could reach the door, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It wasn't rough, nor was it accusing, but that just made it all the worse for me.

"Max?"

I closed my eyes and inhaled, trying to build back my emotions from the crumbling pile on the floor. "Meet me at Rachel's after school."

And with that, I disappeared among the throng in the hall and headed for my next class.

* * *

**Miso:** so… how was that? I'm already working on chapter 2 as we speak. I decided to use Walker as Fang's last name. Mostly because I'm too lazy to find another and is gonna use that one for now and partially because... well, everyone seems to be using it. I haven't read Fang or Angel or Nevermore yet, so not sure if he got it in those last three. Then again, this story occurs _after_ School's Out—Forever.

Please leave a review. I really want to know if I'm doing this right, because truly, I suck at writing.

Miso out.


	3. Chapter 2

**Miso:** Oh, come on, guys. :( no reviews? I was hoping for at least ONE, yunno? I can't exactly make this story better if i don't get opinions and constructive criticism. What, are you mad at me for abandoning this story? Be glad I did. For it was a _whole lot_ worse BEFORE I decided to redo it.

Anyway. Guess what! The same day I posted chapter 1, was the same day I bought Angel and Nevermore! I dared myself to read all three (Fang, Angel, and Nevermore) in just one day. I ended up reading both Fang and Angel but half of Nevermore by 12am. I would have finished sooner but I kept stopping for breaks in between. :c Fang pissed me off, though. Every time I read his interactions with the 'gang' I got angry. And then _Maya_ came along. It's sad to say, but I was glad when she finally died.

Enjoy.

* * *

_Hawk Eyes  
Chapter 2  
_

* * *

**Warnings: **none.

I fidgeted, checking my phone for about the hundredth time as I waited for Fang to show up. School had let out more than thirty minutes ago but he still hadn't appeared.

I wondered if he'd changed his mind and decided to go home. He didn't _have_ to come, after all. It wasn't like I could force him to do anything (anymore; not that I could before).

But after four years...

_Maybe if you hadn't _stormed off _like you did..._

I could smack myself over the head for being so stupid. Instead of walking off from him, I should have asked if he knew where to go. The guy may not be new to me but he sure as hell wouldn't have already mapped out the city on the first day.

But realizing that I didn't know his schedule, I decided to just wait at the cafe and hope someone would point it out to him.

Rachel's Place was some hole-in-the-wall café a little ways down the street from my school. It wasn't well known to the general public but students came here often because the drinks were cheap and, while it wasn't Starbucks, their brownies tasted delicious—right next to Mom's chocolate chip cookies.

I know what you're probably thinking.

The world was in dire need of saving and here I was sampling what secrets New York City has to offer. But it's been _years_ with nothing happening and while crimes were committed and natural disasters wreaked havoc on cities, it was nothing that hasn't happened before, nothing that meant the end of the world.

And while it may sound heartless, that stuff was pretty much normal. That, and the Voice was silent, leaving me to believe that there was nothing truly wrong with the world.

But that didn't mean my paranoia was any less for it.

I chose Rachel's because it was a bit hard to find. You had to walk into a brick-path alley and then take a turn into an arched entrance to find the Coral tables with mismatched chairs tucked under them outside. It wasn't closed in, though. The café was open to the sky so that if I wanted to fly straight up and out, I could.

The sun was no longer overhead but the surrounding area was bluish-bright.

Uniforms were sparse, so I was sitting at an empty table with a half-eaten brownie in front of me. This time when I raised my phone to check the time again Fang came around the corner.

I couldn't help it. I stared. It's been so long since I've last seen him. And the last was of him sleeping peacefully and looking like a little angel—if an avian bird kid with a history of kicking ass with no mercy and not showering for days and wearing enough black to match the Angel of Death could be considered angelic then... yeah.

Still, I remember whenever he was awake, he was tall. Looking at him now, he was taller. And instead of walking, he _glided_. Like his wings were out and he was walking on air. Only, his wings were still hidden beneath his white button-up shirt.

I was mesmerized...

...until I saw his smirk, but then it just made my breath hitch and it wasn't like I was gonna look away like a coward.

He stopped across the table from me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, "What took you so long?"

* * *

Fang

It was Max. I was sure of it. It had to be her.

It couldn't be anyone else _but_ her, because if it was someone's idea of a sick joke then they would _regret_ the day they ever woke up one morning and decided it was a good day to fuck with me.

Briefly, I considered the possibility of her being Max II.

The both of them looked so much alike. Same hair, same skin, same face. And after four years of having one go missing for so long, there was no reason to believe that the School hadn't captured the real Max and that the fake was now sitting there, pretending to be (my) Max.

I wanted to believe otherwise, to believe that (against all odds and possibilities) she was truly, genuinely _here._ But months of putting up with the School's bullshit made me (reluctantly) cautious. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't gather her up in my arms (and hug her close and never let go and crush her and just _mold_ her completely to me) not until I was sure.

She picked a good place for us to meet up.

Well-hidden, if I were flying I probably would have spotted it from the air, but on foot, unless you decided to take a detour through a trashed, brick-road alley then you'd pretty much miss it and never knew it existed.

Which is why it took me so long to get here. Even with directions from a few people from my school, I quickly found myself getting lost.

I wish she'd told me where to go herself or walk with me but before I could even question "Rachel's?" back at school, she was gone, disappearing into the throng of students like she hadn't been standing in front of me.

I'd even found myself questioning if she really was there or a figment of my (starved) imagination.

Seeing her now, I knew she wasn't. But I almost wished she was because now I was remembering things I would have rather been kept in that dark, cobwebbed shelf to the back of my head.

"What took you so long?" she asked after a moment of us just staring at each other from across the small Coral table. A half eaten brownie on a pile of similar other plates and an empty mug that was lined with brown foam sat in front of her. She measured me with an impatient frown.

I let out a disbelieving laugh. "You're kidding me, right?" I asked her. "You go off after telling me to meet you at some place I've never heard of before, _without_ telling me the directions and expect me to be on time? Yeah, it was real easy just trying to find out if the place _existed._"

I saw her blush, and I couldn't help a quick, little triumphant smirk.

"Well, you're here now, aren't you?" she asked, smoothly, brushing off her skirt in that blasé way to cover up her embarrassment.

I snorted. "Yeah, after running around in circles for the better part of _my_ afternoon. I could be heading home right now—" I wanted to say 'Max' but I was trying to convince myself that it was (possibly not) Max II. "Instead I'm here listening to you complain."

She didn't seem to notice. Instead she just got angry. "Then why didn't you?" she snapped. "If you thought this was such a waste of your _precious_ time, then why did you even show up?"

"Maybe because a little _birdie_ told me to meet her here. I thought 'hey, why not?' After four years of worrying whether she was dead or alive, I thought I'd at least give her the chance to explain herself!" I was practically yelling at the end just as angry. I never usually did, neither did I speak more than the few necessary words to get my point across—but after bottling up everything after Max left her note on my bed—it can get to be a bit much for a guy.

Still, I never much lost control and people were now staring at us as I panted and tried to regain my cool.

Max's eyes had widened with—guilt, sadness, apology, grief, and probably self-hate? God, I hope not. Yeah, I was angry (maybe a little bit hurt) but I understood her reasons. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't blame her for wanting to protect me (not much, anyway).

And just like that, I was sure it was Max. Maybe it was the simple fact that she was the only one who could inspire this kind of anger inside of me—besides wolf-human freaks that had the appetite for bird kid and Whitecoats who had a penchant for cutting teens open for their 'studies' without regard for their feelings—but undoubtedly it was Max that was sitting before me.

With a sigh, I pulled out the chair that looked like it better belonged at a poolside rather than a café from under the table and sat. After a moment of not looking at her, I combed my fingers through my hair and said, "You look good, Max."

And it's true. She looked _good._ More than good. She'd grown a few inches since last I saw her and despite her Catholic appearance, I knew she could kick ass and _then_ some. She was so beautiful, her skin tanned with a healthy flush and she'd filled out, like she'd been successful in getting 5-course meals a day.

Before she could respond, a voice rang cheerily in our ears,

"Hi! Can I help you?"

* * *

**Miso: **whoa. o.o never intended for them to get into a fight (short as it was). I wanted them to start out with a nice lil' chat, but then Fang just went all, 'fuck it' and yelled at her anyhow.

And I guess you can say that that's just my little payback at Fang. Leaving a note like that shit? Just plain wrong, man!

Review please.

Miso out.


	4. Chapter 3

**Miso:** 'sup. :x fer being late, long chapter.

* * *

_Hawk Eyes  
Chapter 3_**  
**

* * *

**Warnings: **none.

"_Hi! Can I help you?"_

Max

We both jumped about a foot in the air but the waitress kept smiling as if she hadn't just snuck up on us out of nowhere.

A brunette with hazel eyes and mildly tanned skin, she beamed at us as if we were twenty million dollar lottery ticket winners.

Fang cleared his throat and, grinning tremulously, I flicked my laminated menu at him. I'd kept it on me just in case I would be ordering something else while I waited for him. "Try their cheesecake. It's delish," I told him, even though I was all nervous inside.

I wanted to beat myself over the head. Why did I have to open my big mouth like that? It was like I didn't have a filter, which by now should have registered, I was without 99% of the time. The 1% was whether or not I _decided_ to use that filter.

Like a detonation bomb, Fang had pissed me off so badly. I'd forgotten he had more right than anyone else to tell me off. It just wasn't in me to let people tell me what they wanted, however. I was surprised he hadn't just walked away.

By now everyone that had been staring at us had gone back to what they were doing—with a little encouragement from me, that is.

Watching him calmly talk to the waitress—who was blatantly flirting with him, btw—I couldn't help but think back to the short argument we'd had just minutes ago.

Fang had looked so angry. With the exception of him beating on Erasers, it was a side of him I rarely got the chance to see.

_Well, what do you expect?_

_I _put that anger there.

It was for his own good, but did I expect him to just skip right on up to me with a big smile on his face and tell me how great of a person I was? Although that would have made an amusing sight, I think I would have been more disturbed than amused and punched him in the face to snap him out of whatever Fairyland he was living in.

I shifted, uneasily coughing a little to fill the gap between us with _something _once the waitress had disappeared.

Fang hardly appeared affected. But then silence was Fang's middle name. He was _used_ to not having to speak. It was something I didn't realize I was missing, considering Alexis could talk just about a mile a minute. I'm just surprised he'd spoken as much as he did.

Or more like, _yelled._

What was I going to say?

I wanted to... uh, apologize, but it's not exactly something I went through my life doing. In fact, I generally try to avoid saying it to anyone. Which is why I usually stuck to myself. I would rather barf out my lunch—which was already an unappetizing course of mushier-than-normal mash potatoes, Salisbury steak (was it supposed to be as tough as rubber in your mouth?) and squashed carrots—than tell someone I was sorry.

_But he deserves better._

At least an explanation. _Something._ I didn't want him to hate me. And if he did, I still wanted him to get the facts. And if he still hated me after that... I could live with that.

I could. I _could_.

I just had to keep telling myself that.

But what to say?

Suddenly, it occurred to me and I imagined a light bulb blinking on over my head like on one of those cartoons. I dug out a paper and pen, foregoing the binder, text book, pen knife (when had that gotten there), and a sharpener, from my brown leather bag at my feet.

Noticing the confused look on Fang's face, I smiled sadly and gestured at the two items before pressing the paper down on the table to write.

_I didn't really know what to say, so I'll put it all on paper. Are you okay with that?_

I pushed the paper toward him for him to see.

He looked at it and nodded.

_At least this way no one can be nosy and listen in on our conversation_, I wrote.

He took the pen from me and wrote, with a faint smile on his face: _Ok._

I refrained from rolling my eyes. Because even on paper Fang had a lot to say.

Note the sarcasm.

Anyway. I took a deep breath. Here goes. Fang better appreciate this. At least this way, I'm not saying it out loud.

_I'm sorry,_ I wrote while inwardly cringing.

His eyebrows rose in unison. I didn't know whether out of surprise or comprehension, so I forged on.

_I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry for ditching you when I did. I'm sorry you were hurt by it. I'm really sorry. And I'm not just saying this to make you feel better, either. If I had any other choice I would have_—

I didn't get a chance to finish before Fang pulled the pen from my hand and pressed its ballpoint head to a blank space just below my line.

_You're starting to sound like your note._

This time, I cringed outwardly.

_I know why you did it._

The waitress came around with Fang's order. She gave us a weird look for exchanging notes between us as if we were kids but I barely paid her any attention as my eyes stayed glued to the paper, emotions welling.

_You did it for me. You did it because I had a family._

_I understand_, he wrote.

_But Max._

_You put your _life_, _here he underlined 'life' a couple times as if to put emphasis on the word. _On the line. You could have gotten killed._

I pulled the pen from his hand. _But I didn't, obviously. I didn't die, I didn't even get hurt. I didn't get caught, either. I was perfectly safe._

He scoffed. _You would say that. Erasers chasing you around the clock is considered the new norm for you or is scientists out for your blood a national holiday these days?_

I snorted, but it wasn't out of humor. Fang's sarcasm was even drier on paper than it would be spoken out loud. I was not amused.

_You could have died,_ he continued writing. _With no one there to even keep watch for you while you slept, there was a chance all those things could have happened to you._

_They didn't._

_You got off easy._

_Or maybe nothing happened at all. Maybe nothing was supposed to happen. Maybe I was supposed to be on my own from the very beginning. Maybe you were supposed to be happy._

I could see the frustration in his eyes as he read the message. He knew I was right. He had to. His family was more important that one mutant avian-girl.

Four years ago, Fang and I had found his family. He didn't want to leave, but I forced him to. I at least wanted him to know his own mother.

He had thought that she had had him as a teenager and was probably a crackhead in some abandoned flat somewhere in some state. To our surprise, she'd actually had him when she was twenty-four. The papers from the Institute had lied.

She'd gotten married after he had gone missing to this totally chill guy and had gotten a house in some quiet place in Utah. He had an older brother (more on that later) and a dog.

It was the stuff you read only in books.

Or something only a kid could dream of.

He took the pen from my hand again.

_That's all kind of pointless now, don't you think?_

_What do you mean?_

He put the pen on the table, and I knew the conversation was over. I could see his jaw ticking the way it did when he refused to speak, or when he was annoyed. I let out an aggravated sigh. So much for wanting to explain myself. Instead it turned into an argument of morals.

I scratched out a message to him. By now the paper was filled with words and scribbles, looking like a kindergartner's bad attempt at penmanship. Or rather my scribble looked like a kindergartner's bad attempt at penmanship.

Fang's writing was practically flawless. Next to mine, it looked like the perfect rendition to a Shakespeare handwritten play.

Trying to ignore my failure, I wrote, _Why are you here?_

When he didn't look at me right away, I elbowed him and gestured at the table when he turned his head to scowl at me.

Looking at it, he huffed out a breath. _My grandmother. She's sick._

_Oh. _So he must've come to take care of her. I dunno why, but I was afraid something had happened. Maybe I was wrong. _What about your mom? How is she doing?_

_Fine._

Or maybe I was right. I'd seen the slight hesitation before he wrote. I grabbed the pen from his hand.

_What happened?_ I wrote with a big question mark at the end to make my demand (read: worry) clear.

"Nothing," he said out loud, foregoing all the finger exercise.

"Fang—"

"It's nothing, Max."

"_What happened?"_

Fang

It was a question I didn't want to answer.

And had no intention to.

Max didn't need to know that everything in Utah hadn't gone exactly as planned. In fact, everything had just up and hit the fan like no tomorrow.

The plan? Setting me up with my parents (and the brother that I hated) and hoping I would live a happily ever after. Her words, not mine.

I would have gladly told her that my 'happily-ever-after' would have been to stay at her side, but lucky me, she'd gone the next day before I could tell her just how I felt.

I supposed it's my fault for delaying, but who could blame me for thinking the strongest girl I had ever known, the girl who was leader of the Flock, the girl who more or less needed no one to protect her, the girl who could punch someone's face in without blinking, would reject me if I told her that I loved her? Max wasn't exactly the feel-y type—it's the reason why she'd written out our conversation instead of saying it out loud. She probably wouldn't have hesitated knocking me out if I'd kissed her the night she disappeared.

She wasn't expecting me to be in New York. _I _didn't expect myself to be in New York. But neither could I have foreseen the events that occurred not more than three months ago.

It was traumatizing, it was unlike anything I could have ever witnessed. As a result, I was living with my grandma. Because I could no longer live in Utah.

I could no longer stand all the blood.

I wasn't going to tell her.

"If you don't mind, Max, I'd rather not say..."

Of course she minded, though. I could see it on her face, the way her mouth downturned into a frown. She wanted to ask me, whether I wanted to answer or not. Knowing me, I probably wouldn't be able to deny her for long. That is, if I don't force my hand and snap at her. I didn't want to. I will if I had to, though. Then again as hard as I could bite, Max could bite ten times as hard and make it last. For days.

However, for the sake of letting her keep thinking that I got what I've always (not really) wanted, I would let her think that I was only here to finish my senior year.

To my surprise…

"Ok," She backed off. "I won't ask anymore then."

I looked at her incredulous. Max wasn't one to give in so easily. I expected her to keep quizzing until I gave in, but to my surprise, she didn't. Not that I minded but what's the catch?

Max gave me a smile, noticing my shock. "I'm serious."

My eyes flicked over her inquisitively. "Really? That's it? No Tourqameda at the Inquisition*? No poking and prodding until I beg for mercy? What's the catch?"

She glared at me. "Well, I figured it's not my business to ask, but since you _insist_…"

I let out a soft incredulous laugh, truly surprised that she wasn't going to ask me anything else. "No, no. That's quite alright. I think I'll pass on the offer."

"Piss me off and I just might force you to tell me everything I want to know." But she was grinning.

I smiled, softly. What happened to the pushy girl I knew? "You've changed, Max." She did a mixture between a grimace, a smile, and a blush. It was cute. "Well, a little."

She scowled playfully at me and lightly punched my arm, which for Max… wasn't exactly_ light_. But I was able to keep a pained grimace from my face.

"Thanks."

* * *

**Miso**: so sorry, guys. i didn't want to update so late, but this chapter was giving me a bit of an effort. i'm not exactly an expert at sappy dialogue as you can clearly see (you can see lots of quotations, but truly, i'm not a person who's big on expressing myself to others. i guess Max and i can sort of click in that area).

but then i got the idea for the note thing out of nowhere while i was taking a cab home (i seem to get better ideas while in a vehicle for some reason...). it just... _fit_, yunno?

*has anyone ever read Acheron? That's where I got that quote from. it's a really funny/good/action-packed story by sherrilyn kenyon.

omg, what is Fang hiding from Max! O: boring chapter, but at least you got a little something-something at the end.

Please review.

Miso out.


End file.
